


There Be Dragons

by shadows_and_afterimages



Series: Echoes [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Elder Scrolls Fusion, Fluff, Gen, I'll get to slash eventually don't worry I just don't know exactly when, M/M, Slow Burn, as in almost pre-slash, ish, just go with it, no you don't need to be familiar with Skyrim for this, worldbuilding-heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 09:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadows_and_afterimages/pseuds/shadows_and_afterimages
Summary: Skyrim, Fourth Era, 175th year. Within the province bearing the brunt of supporting a failing Imperial Legion, deep currents were stirring. Mysterious disappearances in the Pale. Deteriorating Imperial forces across the region. Weakened Jarls were seeking refuge, while from the East, a formidable power was on the rise.The death of the heirless Jarl of Baltion, and her final dying wish, might just be the last puzzle piece to set everything in motion.In which the Hannibal cast was thrown into The Elder Scrolls universe, specifically a couple of decades precedent to the events in TES V: Skyrim. Everyone had inferior motives, not one single soul was problem-free, and the one thing no one bothered to pick up seemed to be good intention.But, uh, everyone seemed intent on getting a piece of good Will.Good thing Will’s got Hannibal (or maybe not).





	There Be Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-ed yet, I'll go back when I can.

Prologue

 

“You wanted to see me?”

It was not difficult to find the meeting place. It wasn’t meant to be, Will suspected. The large apple tree stood alone, just off the side of the winding dirt trail that led from the Imperial camp they were staying at to the valley down below. The fruits weren’t quite ripe yet, but they were big enough to make it obvious someone had bothered to do the thinning. Probably one of the soldiers. Even when secreted away like this, living the lives of nameless, faceless Imperial Legionnaires, a foreign existence within their own homeland, it was not hard to see in some of them the farm boys, the merchants, the adventurers they must once have been.

It was a nice enough spot, for people needing a break from the military base without instigating suspicion. They had a clear view of the stone fortress from here, and no doubt vice versa. Will spared a look at the solemn, imposing grey structure. Expertly built against a rocky cliff, surrounded by ancient trees, dark green leaves just a couple sunny days away from autumn, it almost looked like it belonged.

A chuckle turned his head around. “Indeed. I’m glad you could spare a moment, Lord William.”

Will grimaced at the title. “Just Will, please.”

A slim figure stepped out from the shade of the tree. She’s still in full armor, twin scimitars glinting at her sides. “There are certain things you’ll have to get used to, if you want to make the most out of your new… situations.”

Will resisted the urge to scoff. “Why am I here, _Captain Katz_?”

That earned him a laugh. “Alright, point taken. Call me Beverly, then. Or just Bev, if you’re feeling amicable.” She winked at him, dark eyes twinkling in the warm afternoon sunlight.

The sudden friendliness caught him off guard, and Will stared at her for a second before directing his gaze over her shoulder. His incredulity didn’t deter her in the least, however, and Will resisted the urge to take a step back to maintain the distance when she stalked forward. For some reasons, Katz seemed to find it funny. Will scowled at the raised eyebrow and mirth-filled eyes at the edge of his vision, and stared resolutely at the tree behind her instead.

“I believe we’ve already been introduced. Do you have something to say, _Beverly_ , or are we just here to establish a first-name basis?”

She chuckled, but seemed content not to get any closer. “Something like that, actually. Relax, I’m not doing anything to you with half the base watching our every step. You look like a hare who’d just gotten wind of the wolves.” She didn’t even bother with subtlety as she looked over Will with appraising eyes. “Are you a harmless rabbit, though, or the young sabre cat with fangs not yet fully developed? You’ll need to show your worth soon, whatever you are. No child of Skyrim is any stranger to danger, but I can assure you the endless plains of Westrift lives up to its reputation.”

Will’s back stiffened, but he didn’t raise to the bait. Katz tilted her head in amused curiosity, a half smirk forming on her lips as he still refused to meet her gaze.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? And paranoid, too. Well, you will have to be both, and more, if you hope to survive beyond the Ebony Gates.” Reaching up to an overhead branch, she twisted a fairly large apple with ample, promising blush from the tree, turning it this way and that in the palm of her hand in idle examination.

_What if I didn’t_ **_want_ ** _to be one step beyond your damned Gates_ , Will wanted to snap. Instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath, and looked beyond the stifling haze to the lush green valley below. A small waterway curled its way through the rocky mountain range before flowing into a lake at the centre of the valley, and if Will really put his mind to it, he could imagine himself down there. Alone, miles and miles away from civilization, surrounded by only the sound of water rippling and the occasional breeze rustling through the dense wood. His dogs would be there too, perhaps. Winston, lying down peacefully with his eyes closed, yet still attuned to even the smallest disturbance. Buster, ever the opposite of calm and restful, chasing after dragonflies, throwing his tiny body into the water like a bloody bear in salmon season. And Mizu, the sweet, beautiful lady, sitting quietly in the shade, serene pale blue eyes never leaving him for one moment…                    

“I have an offer to make,” Katz’s voice reached his ears, offhand and abrupt. It was possible that she’d made some remarks prior to the statement, but if she did, it’s all been conveniently washed away in the soothing sounds of Will’s imaginary haven.

Will blinked back into the present. Katz was watching him carefully.  She’d moved at some point, and was now leaning casually against the tree trunk, a small knife in one hand and the apple in other.

“You are a commoner, born and raised, Will. I don’t care that the royal family has apparently known of your existence for years, I don’t care that some genealogy spells tracked you down and proclaimed you a direct descendant of our late Jarl. The truth is once we’ve arrived at the City of Balt, your usefulness won’t last any longer than a day. An afternoon, if certain people set their minds to it. They’ll need you for the burial ritual, for the Jarl requested that one from her direct line must perform the rites, but once powers have officially changed hands you won’t be anything more than a minor nuisance.”

She’d stopped looking at him as she talked, and Will wondered if she’d noticed his discomfort with eye contact or was just decent enough not to watch his reaction at the things she was pointing out. All truths, of course, but it didn’t make the remarks any less scathing.

A soft crunch as she cut into the apple. Will eyed the fruit. Not ripe enough, just as he’d noticed.

“If you’re lucky, they will keep you around afterward,” Katz continued, oblivious to Will’s attempts to distract himself. “But if you want to be anything, _anything at all_ , other than an extra mouth to be fed, you’re on your own. And trust me on this, in a Major Hold’s court, if you’re not climbing your way up, the only route left is spiralling down.”

Will looked down toward where the winding trail disappeared around a corner. “You don’t suppose I can just pack up and go back to where I came from afterward, do you?”

Katz huffed out an audible laugh at that, a sharp, short, _incredulous_ sound. “Oh, no, no. Can you imagine how it would reflect upon the new Jarl, tossing her precedent’s direct bloodline out the moment she was done with you and officially inherited the throne? Mind you, she’s technically your cousin. You’re coming back to your rightful _family_ , Will, and you won’t be going away anytime soon.”

Will turned away, glaring at nothing in particular. “I very well _might._ It can’t be too difficult a feat to make them see it’s best for someone who’d lived his entire life as a commoner to _continue doing so._ ”

Will only saw it from the corner of his eye, but the way Katz looked at him then, half-amusement mixed with something like an adult’s gaze upon a naive young child, grated on his nerves.

“ _What?”_ He grounded out.

“You’re proving my point, you know.” She said, unexpectedly quiet. “Yes, you very well might be able to make your case. Highly unlikely that anyone would _listen_ , though, if you only know what you do now, and keep acting the way you have done up until this moment. Because right now, you’re every bit a helpless prey, Will Graham, and unlike simple predators, people have no qualms about keeping around fresh meat for later use.”

“Yet here you are, warning me of the dangers in your world and, thereby, going against everything you’re implying about _your_ sort of people. Why is it so, Lady Guard Captain? What is this offer you’ve yet to tell me?”

She shrugged, jabbing the tip of her knife into a wedge of apple. “I like you. And from what I’ve gathered today, you have the adequate potential. Maybe I just wanted to see a more leveled playing field, a more… interesting power balance than what we’ve had going on for years. You’ll at least be a fresh breeze into those old dusty halls, so to speak.” She straightened up, all business. “However, in order to do that, you need to be prepared. And I’m willing to help.”

Will eyed the set of scaled armor that seemed to be her permanent attire of choice. “I don’t suppose this is about how to walk and talk and present myself like a noble without, you know, ever being one?”

Katz laughed out loud. “No, not quite, though you could certainly ask our resident mage for that kind of lessons. You two seem close enough. As for me, what I’m offering you is… information. _Valuable_ information. The sort of people you’ll meet, the powerplays, the dynamics… Useful tidbits that might end up saving your hide at some point. So, what say you, Will Graham, soon to be Lord William of Westrift?”

That was… unexpected. Will wasn’t one to look at a gift horse in the mouth, but there was a line between fortuitous generosity and too-good-to-be-true prospects.  And Katz, as flippant as she was acting, was teetering awfully close to the latter. “What’s the catch? And I should trust the information you give me… why?”

She shrugged. “Never said you would _have_ to. I’m just giving you the raw materials, how you end up using them will be none of my concern. Let it be a learning process--you won’t meet many people who will just tell you the truth straightaway. As for the catch… Whatever happening between us _here_ , stay here. Don’t expect any camaraderie formed here, out in the open, away from the cumbersome weight of class and wealth and social ties, to last once we’re enclosed within the Palisades. And I’ll give you this for free: that goes the same for any other _relationship_ you might be thinking to form, not just this... agreement between us.”

Almost against his will, Will’s eyes flickered back to the West Tower, barely visible among towering trees and green bushes climbing alongside the rocky cliff. Katz smiled knowingly, and he scowled at nothing in particular.

“I’ll think about it.”

“No worries, we’ll be stuck here for a while, from the looks of it. Thane Crawford--I guess he is _Legate_ Crawford, out here--seems set on concluding whatever Legion business he’s on before even considering to leave. Come find me within the next three days, same time, same place, when you’re ready.”

“Alright.” Will made to leave, but turned around again with a frown as he caught the same knowing smirk on her lips out of the corner of his eye, her eyes once again flickering meaningfully between him and the secluded stone tower.

“Apple?” Not the least bit bothered, she waved her knife lazily with a flick of her wrist, the wedge of apple still attached at its tip.

Will eyed it warily. The knife was, unsurprisingly, wickedly sharp, but his attention was drawn to the intricate lines of runes running not only around the hilt, but also along the blade itself. Was that an _apothecary knife_? “No, thank you.”

“Shame.” Shrugging, Katz casually took a bite out of the wedge, only to stifle a wince. It was Will’s turn to smirk.

“Sour?”

She turned silently accusing eyes to him, but managed to swallow the bite--with difficulty--before replying. “Wha… No! Well, yes, but it’s not that.” She shivered. “I think I last used this knife for cutting some white caps, that’s all. Later.”

Will didn’t bother to keep a check on his incredulous stare as she strode past him, arms wrapped around her torso, muttering about an extra fur coat. The afternoon sun was still beating down their back, and Will could feel a trickle of sweat forming at the back of his collar.

_Southerners._ Shaking his head, Will turned to head back inside. At least it was going to be nice and cool inside the tower, unless Hannibal was up to one of his mysterious experiments again and insisted on going all out with candlelights and burning herbs.

 

*****

Hannibal was, predictably, indeed doing an experiment.

Halfway up the tower the mage had requested to be his during the stay, Will started second-guessing himself about coming in unannounced. He trampled the thought down when his eyes caught sight of the magelights that flickered to life in front of him as if sensing his every step. Knowing Hannibal, they probably did. Whatever magic the mage used on them, he would have been notified already of an approaching presence.

Any doubt Will had got left vanished when the door cracked open before he could even knock.

Hannibal was bending over his alchemy table, clearly occupied, but he did spare Will a quick look and a small, warm smile upon his entrance. A wave of his hand was enough to make the magelight in place of where a fire pit should be lit up, and Will made his way to the chair that was all too quickly becoming _his_ , after quite shockingly short a time.

For a while, the circular room was quiet except for the soothing, rhythmic sounds of pestle hitting mortar. The ‘faux-fire’, as Will had come to call Hannibal’s alternative solution to lugging firewood all the way up those stairs, was basking the room in a soft, relaxing glow without emitting any heat, and the drop in air temperature when encased within stone walls was more than welcome.

Will took his time looking around, noticing the new additions to the once-barren space. The tower had been mostly abandoned when they arrived--something about ridiculously fast-growing trees and mountain shrubs that rendered the once good vantage point useless, and the increasing lack of personnel as the war down south dragged on. The mage had taken one look at the place, and requested to be situated there, citing his need for peace and seclusion to conduct his research, and promised to handle all the cleanup himself.

Hannibal had certainly been busy in the few days they’d had to settle in for this supposedly temporary stay. While the room was still mostly devoid of personal items--Will could hardly fault the mage for that, as his own small room was much the same--the speed at which Hannibal was assembling his work station was quite impressive. Beside the alchemy lab, and of course, row after row of vials, boxes, and bowls of ingredients stacked neatly on a shelf nearby, he’d also managed to fit in an enchanting table, a cupboard filled with various tools and seemingly random artifacts, and several more chests and bookshelves. The only thing remaining undisturbed seemed to be the modest bed tucked away in a corner, plain standard military-issued sheets and pillows no different from what Will had in his own room.

Idly, he wondered just how the Altmer mage had managed to amass such a collection in so short a time. This base was big enough to guarantee having enchanting and alchemy facilities, so it was possible Hannibal had managed to get permission to move them--the soldiers left huddled in this mostly-forgotten ancient fortress certainly didn’t look like they needed those. As for the obviously personal items, however… A magic-wielder would  most certainly _not_ use simple brute force to lug an entire storage’s worth of supplies with him across Skyrim, so magical means it was. He knew there were enchantments that would accomplish such a thing--common enchantments, but they would have to be absurdly powerful considering the sheer _size_ of this collection. It’s just that he’d been _so_ sure Hannibal’s specialty was alchemy, not the arcane arts…

Will was torn from his wandering thoughts when Hannibal straightened up, having finished whatever he’d been in the middle of, and started putting everything away. No candles or burning herbs this time--the only light the mage’d required was a glowing orb hovering over his shoulder, one Will’d seen him using quite a few times. Hannibal seemed to keep it there without conscious force, a formidable show of strength as most spells of that nature would constantly draw from his pool of magicka.

In fact, he seemed to have entirely forgotten about it just then, walking over to the fire pit and sit down on the adjacent chair with a soft swish of his finely tailored robes. Will’s eyes flickered to the dancing orb, and he couldn’t quite hold in a smile.

“Are you going to get that?” He gestured to the space over the mage’s shoulder with a tiny flick of his chin. Hannibal looked surprised for a moment, which probably lent some credibility to Will’s speculation about him not at all aware of, or bothered by, such consistent drain in his magic.

“Oh, pardon me.” The mage raised a hand, palm up, and the shimmering light obediently floated into the gently cupped hand, smoothly vanishing as if absorbed back into his body when his fingers formed a loose fist. “Now that we’re all settled, how went your meeting today? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Will shrugged, feeling his lingering doubts creeping up again as it became quite clear when they were both sitting down that he didn’t even have a _reason_ to be there _._ They hadn’t made any plan for the day, as Will wasn’t sure how long the meeting with Katz would take. Quite gratefully, he caught on the opening Hannibal’s made for him.

“Well... no, not at all. I would really appreciate having a second opinion, in fact. It was rather… unsettling. As long as I’m not intruding on your hospitality, or interrupting your work, of course.”

Hannibal chuckled lightly. “Yes, Miss Katz tends to have that effect on people. Quite a strong character. I suppose it comes with being one of the Hold’s best warriors. And you are never intruding, Will. While I do have a strict appointment-only routine for clients, my doors are always wide open for friends.”

Will smiled and relaxed slightly at the quip, glancing at the door--it had closed by itself behind him, without Will even touching a finger.

“In fact,” Hannibal continued, standing up again, “you have quite the perfect timing, and I have something right here to prove it.”

Will let his quizzical gaze follow the mage’s elegant movement as he walked over to the cupboard. The rectangular box that he pulled out reeked of magic, and was, to Will’s surprise, quite literally wafting out steam. There was amusement shining in Hannibal’s gaze as he turned around, the box in one hand and two silver goblets in the other, and their eyes briefly met.

“I was hoping that you’d be here for this,” Hannibal remarked as he came back, leaning down to give Will one of the goblets and placed the other on the low table between them. “It’s something I’ve been experimenting with. I was planning to bring it to the College of Winterhold, but given the time, place, and company, I could hardly imagine any occasion more appropriate.”

Will’s eyes widened as the wooden box fell apart with a tap of Hannibal’s knuckle, revealing what was quite obviously a wine bottle--just one of the kind Will had never before seen. There was certainly some sort of ice-based magic surrounding it, letting off chilly steam that were visible even in the cool air of the tower. However, a bluish rope of fire was also lazily licking its way around the bottle, coiling and twisting like a slender snake. The liquid inside was springwater-clear, but Will could still see just a hint of rose-colored tint when the light hit it just right.

“Just a sample,” Hannibal said, twisting the cork open, “and tell me what you think.”

The wine--if it really was that--sizzled slightly as Hannibal poured Will one-third of a goblet in the graceful, efficient movements of a alchemy master. There really was a rosy tint, Will noted, before raising the goblet to his lips. He probably drank it too quickly, Will thought as it went down his throat, but it’s not like half a lifetime drinking mead could have taught him any better.

And then all thoughts flew out his ears as the liquid chilled its way down his stomach, just barely a second before the sizzling burn kicked in. Just as Will opened his mouth--to say what, he was not sure--a pleasant numbness spread from his navel all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes, and whatever sound he was about to make was charmed into an exhale.

Hannibal was watching him closely over the rim of his own goblet. “How was it?”

However, Will was too busy focusing on his own body’s reaction to answer. This sensation… This _tingle_ , all the way through his limbs. His muscle was welcoming it like an old friend, while his heart suddenly felt too tight in his chest. Will swallowed.

“Snowberry,” he murmured, still not quite recovered. His hand shook a little, and he resisted the urge to down another gulp, placing the goblet on the table instead. “But I have never… How?”

A delighted grin lit up the elf’s nearly-glowing amber eyes, “ _The Pilgrim’s path’s snowberries_ , yes. Fascinating, isn’t it? Never has it been done before, activating _all four_ properties of an alchemy ingredient in one concoction. It took me quite a bit of trials and errors, but I think [] has smiled down on me this time.”

_Snowberries. From the Pilgrim’s path._ Will picked up his goblet again, holding on to it with slightly shaky finger. The liquid inside sparkled at him.

Snowberry was not a rare ingredient, certainly not in the snow-covered mountain ranges of the Pale. The berries gathered during the 7000-step journey up to High Hrothgar, however, was something different. And to turned _those_ into wine, retaining all four of its contradicting elements… Will was no alchemist, but he could remember this well-known bit of information clearly enough. This shockingly common alchemical gem could resist fire, frost, _and_ lightning shock, after all. And the fourth property… The tingling in Will’s veins was fading, and he was almost _aching_ to take another sip.

_Fortify enchanting_.

Hannibal’s eyes were trained on him, magical magelight dancing in the golden depth. Will looked away, trying to banish the uncomfortable voice in his head, whispering that the mage was seeing right through him.

“Thank you,” he croaked out, and had to pause to clear his throat, “for sharing this with me. Something like this... must be quite valuable, if not priceless.”

“No, Will, it’s me who owe you an apology,” Hannibal murmured. “I only thought it fitting, instead of working through the consequences. It was, all things considered, rather insensitive of me.”

Will let out a shaky exhale. “It’s alright. About time I stopped hiding and faced the facts, after all.”

Hannibal’s voice was painfully gentle. “Please, Will. It’s been but a few days. Your wounds are still gaping, with no real chance to heal just yet. Give it time. It’s not the end, I promise. And you already have my words, that I shall try my best to make it better.”

The laugh that escaped his mouth sounded suspiciously like a sob, and briefly, Will wondered if the bitter taste left on his tongue was an effect of the unique alcohol. “You already saved my life, Healer Lecter. You’ve helped enough already.” With only minimal hesitation, he rose on his feet, gulping down the rest of the wine. _Just so it wouldn’t go to waste_ , he told himself, and the sensation was just as strong the second time, just as capable of drowning out any other traitorous thoughts.

“I guess we’ll have to continue another time. I’d like to take a rain check on that discussion about my earlier meeting.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, that was the prologue. I don't know, it kind of... ran away from me. I couldn't not include any of the above details, though, so there you have it.  
> I'm not entirely satisfied with this yet, so I'll probably go back and edit it some more before the next chapter. Just putting this up now because I start a full-time internship tomorrow, and if I don't take my chance now I'll just leave this in a corner gathering dust forever.  
> I know it's not much yet, but reviews are welcome, especially critical reviews, special emphasis on worldbuilding-related comments. The TES universe is gigantic, man, and I'm pretty sure there'll be gaping holes somewhere that I haven't noticed.
> 
> For the Skyrim folks, this chapter mentioned two original locations: Westrift (major hold in the south, and guess what, it's west of The Rift--shockingly original, I know), and its capital, Baltion. There'll be another new hold, but we're not quite there yet.


End file.
